The Aureate Poultry
by AozoraNoShita
Summary: Romerica! Fairytale AU of The Golden Goose by the Bros. Grimm. In which the princess won't laugh, the golden goose doesn't measure up to typical fairytale standards, and the youngest son keeps insisting his name isn't actually Simpleton. T for swearing.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: What's this? Another story? Yeah, sorry about that…but I've been trying to write the next chapter of "The Angry Library Aide" for about two months now and it just won't WORK. So to try and work out the kinks in my writing, I decided to try my hand at another fairytale parody, and voila! The first chapter was done in a few days…and it only covers the first page of the story in my Grimm book._

_Romerica again, though I'm afraid our favorite angry Italian doesn't show up this chapter. Jett is Australia (Hetalia Wiki says this is one of the potential names Himaruya gave him, and I decided to use it since it sounds so badass—think about it, if you live in Australia, you must be either a badass or an idiot). Simpleton is America, though people will eventually start calling him Alfred. This chapter also contains mentions of FrUK and PruCan, which are basically my default pairings (along with RoChu) even though I don't actually ship them._

_Rated for language!_

**BREAK**

The Aureate Poultry, by AoNoShi

Once upon a time, there was a couple who lived on the edge of a forest who had three sons. Inexplicably, all five of them had different accents. The youngest son, however, had an American accent, so the rest of his family just assumed he was an idiot and called him Simpleton.

(_Simpleton protested this as an unfair stereotype, whereupon his mother told him to hush up and eat his dinner, whereupon Simpleton did so, whereupon he threw said meal back up, whereupon the mother was banned from the kitchen, whereupon—look, the point is everybody called him Simpleton and it didn't seem likely to change any time soon.)_

It happened one day that the eldest son, Jett, decided to go into the forest and cut some wood for his family. The boys' father, Francis, cooked him a delicious pancake, gave him a flask of wine, and bid him to be careful as he waved Jett off into the forest with his provisions and the family axe.

(_"Farewell, mon fils! Make sure to bring home plenty of wood, you know how cranky your maman gets when the fire isn't built up properly!"_

_ "Bugger off, frog!"_

_ "Ohonhon~ Oh yes, and remember: if any pretty young girls wander by, be sure to take off your shirt! I'm sure you will find a beau quickly if they see the sweat glistening on your sculpted chest and muscles working in those big strong arms of yours~"_

_ "Um, sure thing, Dad," Jett said awkwardly as he edged slowly backwards towards the trees._

_ "Honestly, you sound like the narrator in a porno! Disgusting pervert!"_

_ "Pornos don't have narrators, mon cher," Francis pointed out a bit smugly. Their mother, Arthur, blushed scarlet._

_ "Git!"_

_ "Fairytales don't have pornos," the middle son, whose name I forget, attempted to add to the conversation. No one paid him any attention._

_ "I'm manly and strong," Simpleton grumbled in the background. Arthur ceased bickering with his husband for just a moment to tell Simpleton to hush up._

_ By this time, Jett had escaped into the forest._

_ "Lucky bastard," Simpleton muttered._

_ "I said hush up!"_)

Meanwhile, Jett had travelled a good ways into the forest when he suddenly met—or rather, was accosted by—a strange man with white hair and red eyes.

"The awesome me demands that you gimme some of that cake and wine! Seriously, I'm so thirsty I could drink an entire cellar-full of beer."

Ignorant of this blatant foreshadowing, Jett answered, "What cake and wine? Sorry, don't have any of that. Nope, no idea what you're talking about. G'day, mate!" And with that he left the strange man behind.

"That was the worst Australian accent I've ever heard!" the man called after him, but he ignored him.

Jett found a likely looking tree and set to work on felling it (with his shirt on, as there were no maidens wandering the woods so early in the morning). He got a few solid whacks into it before somehow the axe seemed to jerk in his hands, and the blade hit him in the arm.

"Yow! Holy—Fucking—Cripes!"

Jett was obliged to head home and get the wound treated. The end result was that he ended up with his parents and whatshisface fawning over him and his injury, while Simpleton snickered in the background.

And they still didn't have any wood.

So the next day, the middle son decided to go out into the forest and get some.

(_"Ah, mon petit Mathieu! Are you absolutely certain you must go? Surely we can go without for a few days; just look what happened to your brother!"_

_ "I'll be fine, Papa, I—"_

_ "Right! That's his name, Matthew. Sorry, mate, I'd forgot."_

_ "Jett! How could you forget your own brother's name? But the frog is right, um, Matthew. You could get hurt, as well."_

_ "Really, I'll be—"_

_ "Hey! What up with all this blatant favoritism with Mattie? Not cool!"_

_ "Hush up, Simpleton!"_

_ "He has such wonderful hair, non~? From my side of the family, of course~"_

_ "Are you implying something about MY hair, wanker!"_

_ "Um, I'll just go ahead and leave, then…"_)

Eventually Matthew made it out of the house, armed with the axe and provisioned with one of Francis's pancakes and a flask of wine, just like Jett before him.

And just like Jett, he was accosted by the white-haired man in the forest.

"Hey there, cutie! The awesome me demands that you give me some of that cake and wine! Seriously, I'm so hungry I could eat an entire mountain of bread!"

"W-was that foreshadowing?"

"Maybe," the other replied evasively.

"Oh. Well, I'm really sorry but I can't give any to you, since then I wouldn't have as much…"

"Whoa! Not awesome, man."

"I know that sounds really bad, i-it's just that Papa usually forgets to feed me when I'm at home, so—"

"What was that? You need ta speak up! Even the awesome me can't understand your mumbling."

"I'm really sorry!" Matthew apologized again, more loudly this time. "Maybe some other time, eh?" With that, he hurried past the man deeper into the forest.

"What kind of accent is that, anyway?" he heard him mutter, but by the time he turned to answer, the man had disappeared. Matthew sighed. It would have been pointless, anyway, he admitted to himself. People in the real world barely acknowledged the existence of Canada, much less in a fairytale one (Canada didn't actually exist in the fairytale world, but that was beside the point. Well, actually that's kind of a huge point, but let's all ignore it anyway, shall we?)

"Yep, just ignore me as always," Cana—er, Matthew muttered. "Hosers."

_Anyways_. As it happens, Matthew stumbled upon the same tree that Jett had been attempting to fell, so he lined up the axe with the notches already made and got ready to swing…

…only for the axe to slip out of his hands and hit him in the foot.

"_Mon ostie de saint-sacrament de câlice de crisse!"_

It was another day and a half before his family recalled whatshisface was in the forest and hadn't come back. They found him eventually and carried him home. He may have been more upset about being forgotten so long if his injury hadn't meant his family paying attention to him for once, so it worked out fine for him.

(_For the most part, anyway._

_ "I brought some things to change your bandages, um…"_

_ "Matthew, Maman. My name is Matthew."_)

And they still, _still_, didn't have any wood.

A week later, the situation was unbearable. As it turned out, Arthur was perfectly fine with the fire, built up or not; Francis, on the other hand, was becoming downright pissy.

When it got to the point where their dad spent all his time muttering scathing French tirades under his breath, Simpleton knew some shit had to get done.

"Hey! Dad! Seriously, everyone's getting really tired of this. Why don't _I_ just go get the wood?"

"You?" Francis scoffed. "You understand nothing about it."

"What's to understand? You just take the axe and swing it!" Simpleton protested.

" 'Just take the axe and swing it,'" his father repeated scornfully. "Look, if Jett, as strong as he is, couldn't do it, nor _mon cher _Mathieu, then there is absolutely no chance you can accomplish it! Give up this foolish idea!"

Simpleton complained about this to Arthur and, much to his surprise, his mother did not immediately tell him to hush up.

"If that damn frog says you can't do it, then I'm sure you can," Arthur said, nodding.

"Really?" It had been a while since anyone had called him anything other than incompetent (and foolish, and weak, and so on).

"Oh yes." Arthur was smirking. "This is the perfect opportunity to prove Francis wrong about something." He gripped Simpleton by the shoulders, eyes shining. "You may be an idiot, but you'd better succeed in this and bring back some wood…_so I can rub it in that wanker's face_!"

"Figures," Simpleton muttered bitterly as Arthur started cackling.

"Hush up!"

So it was decided Simpleton would try to go get the wood. Francis was still firmly against it, however, and refused to make any food for him to take into the forest.

"Right then, guess I'll make it," Arthur decided.

Simpleton paled. "Uh, Mom? On second thought, I think I'd rather not—"

Arthur cut him off, cooking as he talked. "You know, dear, this whole thing…it's not just because I enjoy spiting Francis. I know it may not seem like it most of the time, but I care about you. We all do; we're your family and we love you. I really do think you'll succeed in this venture."

Simpleton was touched. "Wow, thanks Mom! I—"

"Hush up and take this food."

Arthur handed over the product of his cooking, wrapped in a napkin.

"It's not much, just a flour and water cake, but it'll have to do."

Simpleton eyed the _thing _he'd just been given warily. It wouldn't have been so bad if it _was_ a simple flour and water cake—but this, whatever it was, was definitely not edible. Despite having been cooked in under five minutes, it was horrifically burnt.

"Um, thanks," he said. "And what about to drink?"

"Hmph, well, I know you don't want any of that nasty French wine, so here." He gave him a flask full of sour English beer. "And here's the axe. Now off with you!"

So, thus (poorly) provisioned, Simpleton set off into the woods.

Like his brothers before him, he was accosted by the white-haired man.

"Yo! The awesome me wants some of your cake and wine! I'm so hungry I could—"

"Sure. Take the whole thing if you want."

The man blinked. "What, seriously?"

"I gotta warn you, though, it's not the best food ever. Actually, you might get food poisoning."

"You're the third son, right? So you got a flour and water cake and some sour beer."

"Yeah, but it's English made."

"Oh. _Oh_. Well damn. I knew they treated third sons like crap, but I didn't think they tried to kill you."

Simpleton shrugged as if to say,_ What can you do_?

"Well, no worries! The awesome me can fix this the problem! Lemme see."

Simpleton handed over the cake and beer, and as they passed into the man's hands, they transformed into a delicious pancake and a stein of German beer.

"Whoa! That was awesome!"

The man nodded sagely. "Magic," he said. "It's the shit."

The two broke into identical grins, then sat down to eat. They exchanged names over their meal.

"My family calls me Simpleton, though," the boy complained. "The jerks."

Gilbert, as it turned out his name was, laughed loudly and took a huge bite out of his half of the pancake. "This is really good," he said through the mouthful of food.

Simpleton agreed. "Better than my dad's," he said, "but not as good as Mattie's."

Gilbert looked up from stuffing his face, curious. "Mattie?"

"Middle brother. You probably met him."

"Oh yeah, the cute one. So he's a good cook?"

"The best," Simpleton nodded fervently. "Although at the moment he's stuck in bed with a foot injury."

"Huh. Maybe the awesome me should check up on him sometime and see how he's recovering."

Simpleton finished his portion and stretched. "I dunno, man," he said. "Mattie might be pissed at you over the whole axe-in-the-foot thing."

"The what?" Gilbert looked genuinely confused.

"Isn't that what happens? People who don't share their food with you find their axes turned against them when they try to cut down a tree?"

"What? No!" the other replied, outraged. "I may be an asshole, but I don't go around using my magic to _maim _people!"

Simpleton held up his hands placatingly. "Alright, dude, chill; I believe you. But still, both my brothers ended up with axe wounds trying to cut down a tree."

A lightbu—

A candle seemed to go off over Gilbert's head. "Oh! I think I know what the problem was." He finished off the beer in one swig. "C'mere, I'll show you."

Simpleton followed the other man further into the woods. After a few minutes they reached a tree with several notches in it, as though someone had started to cut it down but never finished.

"See, it's the tree that was causing it. Oh hey Gilbird!" A small yellow chick had suddenly landed on Gilbert's shoulder. "But yeah, it's a cursed tree."

"Huh. That explains it. I guess maybe Mattie _would _like to see you. He doesn't get a lot of visitors. Or any, actually."

"Awesome," Gilbert grinned. "So are you gonna give me the don't-hurt-my-brother speech or anything?"

"Haha, Mattie could kick your ass if he wanted to. I'm not worried about him."

"Interesting." Gilbert's red eyes gleamed. "Well, since you shared your meal with me. And gave me a heads up about your cute brother, let me give ya a piece of advice."

"Sweet! What is it?"

Gilbert jabbed a finger at something behind Simpleton. "Go for _that _tree."

"Huh?" Simpleton turned to see a lone tree had popped up behind him where there hadn't been one before. 'Where did that—?"

When he looked back, Gilbert had disappeared.

…Without his chick. Gilbird cheeped, flying in distressed circles around the empty space where its owner had been. It was obviously upset, so Simpleton held a hand out to it, smiling when it landed on his finger. "What a weirdo," he said. Gilbird chirped in agreement. "Still, when a mysterious magic user gives you advice, and you're the third son, and you're set to do a task your older brothers couldn't do…"

_? _Gilbird cheeped, head cocked to the side.

Simpleton smiled and hefted the axe in his other hand. "I'm gonna cut down that tree."

The chick cheeped in understanding and fluttered up to roost in his hair.

Gripping the axe with both hands now, Simpleton swung with all his might…only for the axe to get stuck in the trunk. He stared at it for a moment. "Whoops. Oh well." Then he gripped the trunk in a bear hug and yanked the whole thing out of the ground. Gilbird chirped again, impressed.

"Thanks!" Simpleton said, setting the tree down to the side. Something shiny caught his eye, so he peered into the hole left by the tree's roots.

"Phew! That tree is finally off of me, desu yo!" something said. This 'something' appeared to be a bird of some kind, with feathers of pure gold. Yes, Simpleton decided, some sort of poultry bird. It was a golden…chicken.

"Wasn't expecting that," he muttered to Gilbird.

"Who's there?" the chicken asked. "Show yourself, or face my mighty wrath!"

Simpleton leaned over and picked up the chicken, lifting it up to eye level.

"Oh, hello!" the chicken said. "What's your name?"

"Well, everyone calls me Simpleton but my name is actually—" He was cut off by the chicken's laughing.

"Simpleton? Haha! You must really be an idiot!"

"Am not," the boy said sulkily. Great, now even the talking chicken was calling him that. "And what's _your _name, O Great and Obviously Superior Chicken?" Said chicken fluffed its feathers indignantly.

"First of all, my name is Peter. Second, I'm not a chicken; I'm a goose!"

Simpleton stared at 'Peter' for a moment. "No," he said slowly. "No, you're definitely a chicken."

"Ha!" Peter exclaimed. "Who cares what you think? I'm the greatest goose in the world! Ever! And one day all the other geese will acknowledge me as a goose, too, desu yo!"

"O…kaaaay."

"Where are we going, anyway?" Peter asked.

That was actually a good question. No way was he taking the golden chicken back to his family. This was pretty much—no, _definitely _the most interesting thing that had ever happened to him. It had to be some kind of sign, right? He'd always known that he was destined to _do_ something, and he'd been yearning for the day to come for years. To just go back to his family now, to their disdain and disbelief in his abilities, was absolutely unacceptable.

"I dunno," he said finally.

"What!" Peter squawked. "What do you mean you don't know?"

"Well I figure we'll just head to the town on the other side of the woods, stay the night in the inn, and start our epic adventure from there." He tucked the chicken under one arm and turned to go. "You coming, Gilbird?"

The tiny chick cheeped in the negative and took flight, landing again on an overhead branch.

"Bye!" Simpleton called to it, and started walking.

Peter was grumbling under his breath. "You had such an intense look on your face, I was sure you were gonna say something cool, desu yo."

Simpleton just laughed, and he and the Golden Chicken were on their way towards his destiny.

**BREAK**

Arthur trekked through the forest, scowling all the while. Simpleton hadn't come back—_figures, the lousy git_—so now he had to get the goddamned wood. And he didn't even have the axe.

Eventually he stumbled on a tree that was already on the ground…complete with the family axe already embedded in it. Arthur frowned at it for a moment, then shrugged and used his magic to levitate the tree in front of him as he headed back the way he'd come, muttering. He saw a tree close by with several gashes in it, as though from an axe. It was also quite obviously cursed. He made sure to keep clear of it.

"…don't give a damn what that bloody idiot is doing. Good riddance. Can't even cut down a tree properly…Maybe now we'll finally get some peace and quiet…"

As he neared the house, he saw a small yellow chick fly past him and go straight through the window into, um, his second son's room.

Almost immediately he heard a loud and annoying voice say, "Oh, there you are Gilbird! Kesesesesese!"

Arthur sighed. Sometimes living in a fairytale _sucked_.

**BREAK**

_So, what Matthew says when he gets foot-axed is a phrase I got straight off Wikipedia, which literally means "my host of (the) holy sacrament of (the) chalice of Christ." Basically, when swearing in Quebec French, you string together a whole bunch of words called "sacres" (as in 'sacre bleu' I guess) which are Quebec French curses originating from sacred terms, such as sacrament and host and chalice and so on, connected by "de" (meaning "of"). Apparently you could make a really long chain if you wanted to. The page name on Wikipedia is "Quebec French profanity", if you're interested._

_Also! I have two Hetalia-fairytale fic recs for you guys:_

_ -"Futzed Up Fairytales" by Coffee-Flavored Fate (his is Romerica!)_

_ -"Wanderlust" by Positively (hers is USCan!)_

_Whoop!_


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I am back! And I'm currently in the same room as Positively! (And probably will be for a while. _YES. _So go look at her stuff.)

Um, I am tired and aching (but really really excited!) so I'll just get right into it, then.

Rated for language! And there is some Lovino this time, along with a crapload of cameos. Can _you _name them all?

Ahhhhhh, seriously you guys I have way too much energy right now.

**The Aureate Poultry: Chapter Two**

_By AoNoShi_

Once upon a time in the same fairytale world where Simpleton and his family lived, there was a king who had one daughter. The king was a very happy and affable man; however, his daughter was very serious and irritable. Despite constant cajoling from her father, she never ever smiled.

"Loooooovi," King Antonio whined. "Please? You have such a cute face! Why can't you just smile?"

"Maybe," the princess said through grit teeth, "it's because of the fact that _I'm wearing a dress_."

The king blinked, confused. "_Si_? Is there something wrong with it? I can find you a prettier one, if you'd like!"

"Why would I want another dress?" the princess exploded. "_I'm not a woman, dammit_!"

Ah yes. Princess Lovi was actually Prince Lovino. The king had been putting the boy in dresses since he was a toddler, however, saying it was cuter. Unfortunately for Lovino, most of the court either agreed with Antonio or played along because they thought it was funny. In any case, no matter how much he complained, threatened, or cursed, he couldn't get anyone to make him a single pair of pants.

Once he'd even snuck out of the castle and gone to the peasant tailor in the town in an attempt to acquire pants. But the man had recognized him and declined.

"Princess," he's said, "I don't think it's appropriate for a girl to wear boys' clothing. Especially a member of the royal family like yourself!"

"The _fuck_?"

"And excuse me for saying so, Highness, but neither is that language suitable for a princess!"

Thereafter had followed a storm of swearing so intense that the king had to pay for therapy for the traumatized tailor, and the tailors' union collectively placed the "princess" on their No-Pants list. Lovino protested this as unfair, as fairytales shouldn't contain psych therapy or unions or No-Pants lists, but nobody listened to him.

_As fucking usual._

"They're really more of a guild," King Antonio said.

"What?" Lovino snapped back to the present.

"You were muttering angrily about unions again," Antonio explained. "Which reminds me, we need to talk about your uncute language!"

"No, no we don't. Get out of my room and leave me alone."

His father immediately started pouting, eyes wide and lower lip poking out.

"_No_." Lovino remained firm. "Out."

Antonio sighed. "Alright, _tomate_. But there's something I have to tell you first."

"Well make it snappy then, bastard."

"Okay! I've promised your hand in marriage to whoever can make you laugh!"

"_You what?"_

**BREAK**

Over the next few days, numerous suitors came to the castle. Lovino refused to meet with them in person, so the suitors were forced to try their luck making the princess laugh from below her balcony.

The king's advisors Elizaveta and Roderich were assigned the task of watching these interactions and judging whether Lovino laughed or not. You may question the phrasing of that: how do you "judge" whether someone laughs or not? It seems like a pretty straightforward yes or no—laughing or not—with none of the deliberation implied by the word "judge."

Well take a gander (_totally unintentional goose pun_) at this scene unfolding:

Roderich frowned, brows furrowing. "Did that count as a laugh or no?"

"Mm, no, I don't think so. It was really more of a snort, wasn't it?"

"I suppose, but couldn't a snort count as a laugh?"

"Maybe," Elizaveta admitted. "In some situations, I'm sure. But it was a particularly derisive snort."

"So no," sighed Roderich. "It didn't count."

"Nope!"

The bespectacled man turned on her sharply. "How can you sound so cheerful when we are stuck here babysitting? There are so many more productive things we could be doing right now!"

"Playing the piano hardly counts as productive towards the wellbeing of the kingdom."

Roderich flushed and cleared his throat, just as a sudden tirade of curse words and insults erupted from the other side of the balcony.

"Well, I doubt Prince Sadiq will be coming back any time soon," Elizaveta sighed, watching the spurned suitor marching indignantly from the courtyard.

"No," Roderich agreed. "Definitely not."

'That's right!" the princess screamed after the retreating prince. "Go away! Or I shall taunt you a second time-a!"

"Your Highness, such shouting really isn't appropriate for a princess," Roderich admonished.

"I'm not a fucking princess, dammit!"

Elizaveta just giggled.

And so it went for several weeks, with suitors coming from faraway kingdoms and towns—nobles and peasants alike—yet none were able to make the princess laugh.

Until one day, when into the courtyard walked a chain of townspeople led by one boy holding a golden chicken.

**BREAK**

Simpleton had spent the night in the nearest town's inn, which was owned by a short, girly-looking man named Yao. Said girly-man had three sons who helped him around the establishment: Hong, Kiku, and Yong Soo.

Simpleton immediately took a liking to the family, because they reminded him of his own (minus the part where he was annoyed with their very presence). That is, there were three sons, they were always bickering, and they all had different accents (though it took him a while to notice the differences and not just classify them all as generic Asian).

They even had the same dynamic! Hong was the oldest brother—seemingly inaccessible but with a mischievous streak. Kiku was the middle brother, quiet but easy to get along with. And Yong Soo was like him! Excited and ready to go out and find his destiny.

"You'll find fairytales often have very similar setups and plotlines," Yao said knowledgably. Oh yeah, and also there was Yao as the annoying, constantly doubting guardian figure.

"Excuse me, aru?" the man exclaimed indignantly.

"Ah, Simpleton-san, maybe you should stop narrating your own story out loud?"

"Haha, okay."

He'd stashed the golden chicken in his rented room when he arrived, then headed down for dinner. He was currently wolfing down some basic fairytale stew, chatting with Yong Soo, who was supposed to be sweeping.

"Your mom or whatever keeps glaring over at us. I don't think he likes me very much."

"Maybe because you called him a girly-man, da ze."

"Hey, _you're _the one obsessed with his boobs!"

Yong Soo just laughed. "That's because I've claimed them, da ze! Did you know that breasts were invented in Korea?"

Simpleton looked confused. "Where's that?"

"I don't even know, da ze!"

They both shared a hearty laugh, ignoring Yao's complaining about not actually possessing boobs—nonexistent, just like Korea.

At one point in their epically heroic conversation (Yao had given up at this point and swept the floor himself), Hong approached the table.

"What was that thing you carried up to your room?" he asked. "The gold thing?"

"A chicken," Simpleton answered cheerfully.

Hong gave him a weird look but didn't probe further, instead dragging Yong Soo away by the collar. The two youngest brothers waved frantically at each other until Yong Soo was out of sight.

Simpleton looked around. With the entertainment gone, he might as well head to bed. Tomorrow was the beginning of his big adventure!

"Simpleton passed the girly innkeeper on his way upstairs to his room. The man turned a weird shade of red."

"That's because I can hear you when you narrate your actions aloud like that, aru!"

"Good night!"

Peter was asleep with his head tucked under a wing when he opened the door, but the squeaky hinges caused him to wake up briefly.

"Can't just…leave me up...here…bastard…desu yo…" The beginning of what may have been a very intense chicken tirade trailed off as the bird fell back asleep. Simpleton shut the door quietly and got into bed himself.

He lay as still as he could for a moment, but couldn't contain his excitement, which manifested as several wiggles and a broad grin at the ceiling overhead.

He couldn't wait for tomorrow!

**BREAK**

'Tomorrow' sure was off to a weird start, Simpleton mused as he took in the scene before him.

He'd been at breakfast a few minutes ago, but had left since watching Yao get progressively angrier was kind of scary. The innkeeper had been muttering about lazy, good-for-nothing sons who disappeared on the job.

"Welp, looks like I found where you guys disappeared to," he addressed Hong, Kiku, and Yong Soo. "But can I ask why you picked my room to avoid your chores in?"

The Asian siblings shared a look, seeming to come to some kind of silent agreement. They shrugged simultaneously, though it was a bit hindered by the fact that Yong Soo had one arm around Kiku's chest, Kiku had a hand on Hong's shoulder, and Hong…

Hong had a firm grip on Peter's butt.

"Dude, are you molesting my chicken?"

The oldest Asian just gave him a blank stare, while Yong Soo started giggling uncontrollably. Kiku took it upon himself to explain.

"Ah, you see Simpleton-san, I saw my older brother heading upstairs while we were supposed to be working, and I followed him in here. Yong Soo then followed me and—"

"I just wanted to be included in whatever you guys were doing," Yong Soo interrupted with a pout.

"I was just trying to get Hong-nii-san to come back downstairs," Kiku added.

They all looked expectantly at Hong.

His gaze was impassive as he said, "I wanted one of the golden chicken's feathers."

"First of all," Peter suddenly decided to pipe up, "I am a _goose_. Not a chicken. Secondly, couldn't you have picked a better place to try and pluck one of my amazing super-awesome feathers from than my _butt_?"

"It talks!" Yong Soo exclaimed.

"Yep, it's a magic chicken."

"_Goose!_"

"Whatever. I'm leaving now so if you could kindly let go of the bird…"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Dave," Hong said.

"Dave? My name's not—actually, that's better than Simpleton; go ahead and call me Dave."

"We're stuck," Kiku said simply.

"Really? That's weird." Simpleton/Dave shot Peter a stern look. "Are you doing something weird to them?"

Peter sniffed indignantly, which was weird since Simpleton didn't know chickens had nostrils (they do). "The only thing I'm doing is being a great golden goose, desu yo."

"Well guys, I dunno what to tell ya," Simpleton shrugged. He gave Peter a few experimental pokes, but was able to pull away each time without getting stuck. Maybe Peter's magic feathers were just racist against Asians or something. "I guess you're gonna have to just come with me."

Hong and Kiku shared horrified looks, while Yong Soo started grinning.

"Whoo! Adventure time!"

Simpleton picked up Peter and left the room, trailed by the three sons.

And it got even weirder after that.

Yao tried to stop them as they left the inn, only to get stuck to Yong Soo.

Once outside, the creepy owner of the bar across the street saw them, and clapped a huge hand onto Yao's shoulder—and so becoming part of the line.

The bar owner's younger sister latched onto her brother's arm, and despite the man's desperate attempts to shake her off, she too was firmly attached.

The elder sister grabbed onto the younger, and was dragged along with the line down the street.

At the street corner, the kindly young cobbler tapped the elder sister on the shoulder, concernedly asking if she was all right, which led to the cobbler's crossdressing neighbor to grab his other hand and whine that they were "like, totally gonna be late to the concert at the town square." But he needn't have worried, because that's where the procession headed next.

The young violinist being featured in the concert started trembling when he caught sight of the bar owner, but he soon saw his friend the cobbler in the lineup. He made a tentative grab for him, but was too slow and ended up with a handful of the crossdresser's skirt. Unable to let go, he was dragged away from the site of the concert. His caretaker, a smart-looking man with glasses, tried to stop him but ended up being dragged along himself.

A friend and neighbor of the man with glasses was out walking his dog, holding hands with his husband, when the strange parade came around the corner. The dog barked excitedly and raced forward. The man with glasses, seeing the tiny white fluffball about to get trampled, quickly scooped the dog up under one arm, but was unable to release it again. Thus his neighbors were attached to the line by the dog's leash.

Their neighbor on the other side, a rather obnoxious man with a silly hat, laughed loudly at their predicament, only to have the intimidating husband grab him by the collar and drag him along, too. On the way, the obnoxious man managed to grab the rather stoic man with a hairclip that lived across the street and had come out to see what the commotion was, who in turn grabbed his protesting brother.

"This is getting kind of ridiculous, desu yo," said Peter at the front of the line.

"Are we even going somewhere in particular?" Hong asked from behind Simpleton.

The blond boy shrugged. "Honestly, dude, at this point I'm just trying to see how many people I can pick up. It's like an old school video game or something!"

"Video games were invented in Korea!" Yong Soo piped up enthusiastically. "Or at least, they would be if they'd been invented yet. Or if Korea actually existed here."

"At least one of us is enjoying themselves," Kiku murmured with a sigh.

"Aiyah! When we get back to the inn—!"

"Ah, you look very cute when you are angry, Yao, da?"

"Brother, maybe we'll go by the chapel; all these people can be witnesses when we get _marriedmarriedmarried_!"

"Ah! I'm sorry—!"

"It's quite alright, Miss—"

"Like, get your hands of my skirt, you perv!"

"I—I can't! S-sorry!"

"Honestly, you don't need to apologize to her…him; it's not your fault we're all stuck. Ah, calm down, please!"

"Sorry! She's getting a little restless. Usually she's out for her walk right now."

"Sw'r t' G'd, 'f y' d'nt sh't 'p…"

"Haha! I'd like to see you try to make me, bastard!"

"Idiot."

"You're all idiots. I hope Mr. Puffin's okay at home alone…"

All conversation ceased when a sudden peal of laughter came from over the procession's heads. The townspeople looked up to see a figure on a balcony, shoulders shaking with laughter and face buried in their hands.

"Holy crap," said Silly Hat Guy. "The princess is laughing."

"Say what now?" Simpleton asked. As he had never been away from home before, he had never heard of the sullen princess and the challenge to make her—um, him laugh. Indeed, it was merely good fortune, perhaps even fate, that the boy had led the line beneath the princess's balcony.

Actually it was more like ADD. Simpleton had spotted something shiny through the gateway and wandered into the courtyard to investigate. Said shiny turned out to be the glinting armor of a tall blond man who was now glaring out over the crowd of people assembled.

"Who is responsible for this?" the man roared. Everyone who had a free hand pointed at Simpleton. The man gave Simpleton a once-over before turning to look up at the balcony, where the so-called princess was still giggling, face covered.

"Did that count or not, Roderich?" the man in armor asked. A brunet with glasses appeared, peering over the railing doubtfully.

"It was still rather derisive," he said.

A woman appeared at his side. She seemed to size Simpleton up and, with an odd gleam in her eyes, announced, "But it was definitely a laugh. _It counts._"

"Finally," Roderich muttered. "Show him inside, Ludwig; we have to present him to the king."

"And his future fiancée," the woman sing-songed.

"Okay, so the princess is getting married. Fine. Great. But we're still all stuck together," said the crossdresser.

Ludwig snorted. "Everyone who doesn't want to spend the rest of their life in the dungeons, please raise your hands."

Immediately, all of the townspeople who'd been stuck raised their hands. Upon realizing they were free, they left before anything else even more ridiculous could go down.

Yong Soo volunteered to play the part of a plot device and take the chicken so that the story wouldn't have to explain where it went later. Simpleton waved goodbye to Peter, then got back into character.

"What the hell do you mean by fiancée?" he cried.

"The king has offered the princess's hand in marriage to anyone who could make her…him laugh."

"What if I don't _want_ to marry some stupid princess?"

"Excuse me? Who're you calling stupid, bastard?" A new voice joined the conversation. Apparently the princess had finally gotten her…his giggles under control.

Simpleton looked up.

Dark auburn hair framed a scowling face set with flashing topaz eyes.

He couldn't stop the small, awed syllable that escaped him.

"_Oh._"

Simpleton allowed himself to be dragged inside the castle.

**BREAK**

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it! Also, to give credit where it's due, Ludwig's solution for getting everybody unstuck comes from Fractured Fairy Tales by A. J. Jacobs. You may recognize it since The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show used to do shorts called Fractured Fairy Tales, which were then put into the book. I'm not the only one who watched that as a kid, right? They were on VHS tapes…

Man I feel old now.

Reviews appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Switching from writing TALA to TAP (I am an American and therefore I love acronyms) is amazing. I guess 'cuz this fic is just so much sillier. I wrote this in two days, man. I was sitting there, looking busy and engaged with people who were talking about important things to (/at) me, and I was just _on a roll_. That will probably come back to haunt me later, but I don't even care right now because I am deliriously happy with how this chapter turned out, constant breaks in flow and all.

Wheeeeeee!

* * *

><p><strong>The Aureate Poultry: Chapter Three<strong>

_By AoNoShi_

Lovino was in a daze as Roderich led him through the halls toward the throne room. Elizaveta was next to him, chattering as usual, but the words weren't registering.

He tried out different phrases in his head.

_I'm engaged._

_I have a fiancé._

_I'm getting married._

_Marriage._

_Holy matrimony._

_Holy __**fuck**__._

The king was polishing his halberd when the trio entered the room through a set of side doors. Apparently no one had told him the news yet. Well, Lovino would fix that.

"You _bastard_!" he screeched, pointing accusingly at his father. Antonio paused and looked up, blinking confusedly.

"Me?"

"Yes, you! I _told_ you this was a stupid idea! Now look what's happened!"

"What's—?"

"If you would just _listen to me_, crap like this wouldn't happen! Now I have to get married _against my will _to some _peasant_ and it's _all your fault_!"

Antonio froze. "_Married_?"

"_How could you do this to me?"_

The main doors opened slightly, enough for one of the guards outside to stick his head in. "Your Majesty, King Ludwig says he's brought the boy who made the princess laugh."

A moment later, another set of side doors was flung open, and Feliciano appeared. "_Fratello~_!" he squealed, before making a running leap to capture Lovino in a hug. Shit, when had his brother gotten here?

"Ve~ Romano! I hear you're getting married! That's so exciting! Are you excited! Oh! Oh! Can I be a flower girl? Please please please~? Or the maid of honor! Or _both_! Oh, that would be wonderful! Don't you think so, Romano?"

Lovino ignored his brother completely, from his chatter to the insanely poofy dress he was wearing.

"Well?" he demanded of his father. "Have anything to say for yourself, bastard?"

Antonio looked stricken. "I didn't think about the actual marriage part! I just wanted my baby to laugh!"

"_What_?"

Feliciano, since he already had Lovino in a firm grip, was able to keep his brother from attempting simultaneous regicide and patricide.

"_Fratello_, please calm down!"

"That bastard signed my life away without any regards for the consequences, and you want me to _calm down_?" Lovino yelled.

"Um," the guard at the main doors cut in tentatively, "so should I let him in, or…?"

Antonio frowned, looking thoughtful for once, before his eyes lit up. "Don't worry, Roma, Daddy will take care of everything!" He wriggled in his throne a bit, then patted the seat next to him. "You boys sit down, and don't worry! Yes, bring him in!" he called the last part to the guard.

Slowly, threatening glare still in place, Lovino sat. Feliciano, gripping only his hand now, remained standing beside him.

They all looked towards the main doors as they swung open. Ludwig, also known as the potato bastard from the next kingdom over who'd married his younger brother, came into view first.

"I've brought him," he said shortly, then stepped aside.

Then there was the boy. He was—okay, he wasn't half-bad looking. Tall, well-built, golden blond hair, and blue eyes—wide behind his glasses as he took the room in. They went to the king first, of course, since he was sitting on the throne, strategically placed to be the focal point of the huge room. Next he looked to the people standing next to the king, the advisors Elizaveta and Roderich. Then they slid to Feliciano—and right over him to Lovino. And stayed there.

Lovino's breath caught a bit, and tried to fight down a blush.

"Well!" boomed Antonio. Everyone in the room jumped. Lovino nearly groaned. Oh God, he was using his Kingly Voice.

(The Kingly Voice was basically Antonio speaking as loudly and deeply as possible, trying so sound impressive. Frankly, it was absolutely ridiculous coming out of his mouth.)

The boy continued to stare at Lovino for a moment, then slowly looked at the king.

"Hi," he said. Suddenly he smiled. "How're you?"

Antonio floundered for a moment, put off by the unexpected greeting. "Um," he answered, still in the Kingly Voice, "I am the king."

"Yeah, I can tell! Nice place you got here."

"…Thank you?"

" 'Welcome." He was still smiling. Nobody seemed quite sure how to deal with such a smiley person, so Ludwig cut in.

"This boy made the princess laugh," he prompted.

"An impressive feat," Antonio intoned, recovering momentarily.

"Honestly, I think I just had a chicken in the right place at the right time."

"…Right. Well. As you know, this means you have won the princess's hand in marriage."

"Haha, I actually didn't know that until like five minutes ago, but okay." This response brought even more incredulous staring.

"How could you possibly not know about it?" Roderich asked. "Everyone in the kingdom knows. Everyone in all the _surrounding _kingdoms knows."

"Well, my family lives on the other side of the woods, and we don't go into town much. Not a lot of news reaches us. Plus I just left home yesterday, so…yeah."

"Wait, the only people who live on the other side of the forest are Francis and Arthur. Are you one of their sons?" Elizaveta asked, eyes gleaming.

"Um, yeah, I'm the youngest. How did you know that?"

"Oh, I keep tabs on all the gay couples in the kingdom. So! If you're the youngest, that means you must be Simpleton!"

Ludwig snorted but quickly covered it up with a cough. The boy shot him a dirty look.

"That's not my real name, it's actually—"

"Oh my God, I'm engaged to someone named Simpleton!" Lovino wailed. Why did the universe hate him so?

"Hey! I just said, I'm not actually _named_ Simpleton, people just call me that!"

"Like that's much better," Lovino snapped back.

"At least I'm not a dude wearing a dress!"

Lovino froze. The room was silent for a moment as they stared at each other.

"Well! If you want to marry the princess—" Antonio said after a moment of awkward silence.

"You mean the prince in a dress."

"Er, yes." Antonio was not used to people interrupting him. "If you want to marry him—"

"Only if he doesn't mind marrying me," Simpleton cut in again.

Lovino allowed himself a brief moment of hope, but of course his idiot father ruined it, immediately shooting down the offered escape from this whole debacle.

"No, no, you won his hand in marriage! You're engaged now; to just break it off would cause a scandal!" Antonio waved his arms around dramatically.

"Sire, you do realize that we are talking about the marriage of royalty to a peasant boy with a chicken? I don't think anyone would protest too much if it didn't go through," Ludwig offered.

"I don't even _have_ the chicken anymore," Simpleton added with a shrug.

"Well," Feliciano put in, "do you _want _to marry Lovino?" The room went silent. Lovino was very aware of the fact that the peasant was staring at him again.

"Lovino," Simpleton said, slowly and experimentally, as though testing out the name. "Yeah, I would."

Elizaveta squealed in delight; simultaneously, Lovino attempted to hide his burning face in his hands.

"Well now that that's decided," Antonio said excitedly, Kingly Voice forgotten, "I get to—I mean, _have_ to—assign you three tasks to prove yourself!"

"I bet you just now made that up," Simpleton muttered. "Stupid fairytale rules."

"Why do people keep interrupting me?" Antonio wondered sadly. "I am king, aren't I?" he asked, looking up at Roderich.

"For better or worse, yes, you are," the advisor answered dryly.

"Sorry," Simpleton said. "I'll stop."

"Okay!" Antonio cheered up again instantly. "So your first task is to, um…drink all the beer in the royal cellars!"

"…what." Lovino deadpanned.

"I'm not even legal!" Simpleton protested.

"You are in fairytale world," Ludwig pointed out.

"I thought nobody was going to interrupt me anymore," Antonio pouted.

"Ve~" said Feliciano.

"The point is, the cellar has to be empty of beer by sunrise tomorrow," Elizaveta raised her voice to be heard over all of them. "And if you fail we will cut off your head!"

Antonio gasped excitedly. "I _like_ that!" he exclaimed. He and Elizaveta giggled at each other for a moment.

"Jeez," Simpleton said. "You're a tough guy to get married to, Prince Lovino."

"You should probably just give up now." He attempted to sound as serious and intimidating as possible as he would while his face was still so red. "You'll never succeed."

The boy grinned. "Watch me."

* * *

><p>Once Simpleton had been escorted outside to begin his task, Lovino attempted to escape the throne room alone. Naturally it didn't work—Elizaveta and Feliciano followed right behind him.<p>

"Soooo, what did you think of your fiancé?" the advisor asked teasingly. "You seemed rather pleased when he noticed you were actually male."

"He was really cute! Wasn't he, Romano?" His brother sounded even more enthusiastic.

"Well," Lovino blustered, "it's not like he'll be my fiancé for long. Doubtless he's run away by now."

"Like you really believe that," Elizaveta said.

"…Fine. He's probably out there, trying to empty the cellars or whatever, _like an idiot_, because there's no way he'll succeed, and he is going to have his stupid blond head chopped off!"

"No!" Feliciano gasped, worried now. "But, but it's such a cute head!"

"Don't worry, Feli," Elizaveta gave his brother a comforting pat. Then she shot Lovino a rather intense look. "I don't believe that will happen, and neither does Lovino."

"What kind of a worth-proving task is that, anyway?" Lovino exploded, stopping in the middle of the hallway and rounding on the two following him. "Getting rid of beer? What exactly does that prove?"

"Ve~? What do you mean?"

"I mean, so what if he manages to complete whatever stupid tasks our father sets for him? All I'll know about the guy I'm marrying is that he has a chicken, his name is Simpleton, and he can clean out a cellar!"

He doesn't even have the chicken anymore," Feliciano reminded him.

"See, and he doesn't even have the fucking chicken anymore!"

"So what are you going to do about it?" prodded Elizaveta.

"I'll—I'll set my own tasks!"

"Oooh." His audience seemed impressed, which was rather gratifying.

"That's a good idea, _fratello_!"

"Damn straight it is; I came up with it!"

"So what's first?" Elizaveta asked.

"Well…" Lovino thought about it for a minute. "He's kind of young. A boy, really. So first of all he has to prove that he's a man—you know, l-like he's, um, manly and…strong."

"Hm? You want a strength test?"

"Not just that, but also…protectiveness. I mean, I'd want to marry someone who was strong enough to keep the future king safe. Right…?"

Both his brother and the advisor nodded vigorously.

"A very good idea," Elizaveta repeated. She linked one arm through his; Feliciano took the other, and they continued down the hall (at a much slower pace this time).

"Ve~ Do you think he realizes he's marrying the crown prince?" Feliciano wondered.

* * *

><p>Simpleton had taken one look at the cellar and said, "Oh <em>crap<em>."

King Ludwig had given him a sympathetic clap on the back.

The cellar was _huge_, there was a _huge_ amount of beer barrels, and the barrels themselves were _huge_.

"Craaaaaaap," he said again.

"That is a lot of beer," Ludwig agreed.

"What is it all doing down here, anyway?"

"Nobody here really likes it," Ludwig shrugged, "besides Roderich and myself, when I visit. The others just drink wine."

"…crap."

The two stared out over the expanse of the cellar.

"Hey, you're married to the other brother, right?"

"Feliciano. Yes, I am," the king confirmed.

"Was it worth the hassle of marrying him?"

"I didn't have to do anything like this," Ludwig admitted. "We were engaged since we were children. It's an old tradition for the younger prince or princess to be married to the future king of one of the neighboring kingdoms.

"I was lucky…we actually," he blushed here, "fell in love. Feliciano is quite a handful, true, but he's—he's worth every minute of it."

Simpleton stared at him for a moment, then suddenly was all smiles again.

"I thought so," he said. He began to dash up the stairs. "Thanks, man! I can see myself out!"

"Ah, where are you going?" Ludwig called after him. He could barely hear the answer.

"To win the hand of the prince!"

"He's actually the crown prince, you know," muttered Ludwig, but Simpleton was long gone.

* * *

><p>Simpleton had a plan, and that plan was to wander aimlessly around the forest.<p>

Come on, he was the third son. It _had_ to work.

"Hey, look who it is!" a voice called.

Simpleton turned, excited, only to realize the speaker was his brother, Jett. "Oh, it's you."

"Is that any way to greet the sibling you haven't seen for a whole _day_?"

Simpleton shrugged. "Yeah?"

"Okay," Jett conceded.

"What're you doing out here anyway?"

This time it was Jett's turn to shrug. "I dun' even know. Whatshisname's boyfriend started goin' on and on about 'plot device' or somethin', and dragged me out here."

"Oh. Wait—boyfriend?"

"That would be the awesome me!"

"Gilbert!" Simpleton exclaimed as the albino man came into view. "I found you!"

"Talk about a difference in reception," Jett muttered as Simpleton and Gilbert bro-fisted.

"I head you're in need of some plot device," said Gilbert, grinning.

"Sure am. Oh, hey Gilbird."

Gilbird cheeped hello.

"Well, lucky you've got me, 'cuz I just so happen to have some plot device right here!"

"Awesome!" Simpleton cheered.

"What in the hell's going on?" Jett interrupted.

"Oh yeah! I'm trying to win the hand of the prince, and to do that I need to complete three tasks, and the first one is to drink an entire cellar-full of beer!"

"Hold up—I've heard that before." Jett appeared to think hard for a moment before his eyes widened. He turned to Gilbert. "You! When I met you, you said you were so thirsty you could drink an entire cellar-full of beer!"

Gilbert smirked. "Not my fault you don't recognize foreshadowing when it bitch slaps you in the face. Now, lead the way!" He pointed dramatically at Simpleton, who saluted and turned to lead them back to the castle.

"Why am _I_ going?" Jett complained.

"To make the story more interesting!"

Jett sighed. "Stupid youngest son," he continued muttering as they went. "If I tried something like this, I'd be tied in a sack and drowned, or have my head cut off by robbers or something. Or even beaten, driven away from home, _and _robbed."

"Haha, or get axed in the arm!" Simpleton suggested.

"…that wasn't funny."

* * *

><p>Lovino and Feliciano were eating a second lunch in the garden, along with Elizaveta.<p>

"And that's the reason Ludwig and I came to visit today," Feliciano finished. The other two nodded.

"It all makes sense now," Elizaveta marveled.

Lovino, who was sitting nearest to the path, was about to remark on this rather blatant trope when he heard something.

"Where'd he _go_?"

"Haha, Gilbert just disappears sometimes! It's all good."

He didn't recognize the first voice, but the second was definitely Simpleton. He motioned to his companions, and they all looked over towards the bend in the path as Simpleton and another boy came into view. The stranger had one of the beer barrels hefted on his shoulder.

"He must be pretty strong," Elizaveta said meaningfully.

"Oi, bastard!" Lovino called, causing both to look over to their table. "Who the hell is that?"

"Oh hey guys! This is my oldest brother, Jett! Jett, this is the prince I'm going to marry, Lovino! And also his brother Feliciano and some lady I never caught the name of."

"It's Elizaveta, idiot! She's an advisor!"

"I see! Nice to meet you, Elizaveta," Simpleton said good-naturedly, causing her to smile.

"You're marrying this guy?" asked Jett doubtfully.

"Yep! Isn't he great?"

As Lovino turned red and started sputtering, Feliciano asked, "Shouldn't you be working on the first task?"

"Already done! Jett here is taking the last barrel home."

"What?" Lovino said incredulously. "There's no way you could have emptied out—"

"Actually, it's true," said Roderich, also rounding the corner. "He's done it. All the barrels in the cellar are empty."

Lovino gaped.

"Does the king know?" Elizaveta asked.

Roderich looked uncomfortable. "Well, yes. As soon as he heard he dashed off, though."

"And you _let_ him? You know he does rash things when he thinks his sons are in any kind of danger! Don't you remember that tine with the alpaca and the king's halberd and—"

"Not in front of Feliciano!" snapped Lovino.

Just then screaming erupted from the direction of the castle.

Elizaveta shot Roderich an exasperated look. He loosened his cravat and cleared his throat nervously. "Perhaps we should seek shelter."

And that was exactly when the king's prized bull came charging around the corner towards them.

In that moment, Lovino's view of the world shrunk drastically, until it consisted only of the raging bull and himself. And he knew that it was coming straight at him. Heart pounding and hands trembling, he stood and tried to back away from the table, but he wasn't fast enough, he was _nowhere near_ fast enough and _oh god_ it was _right there_—

…right there and _not moving closer_.

Suddenly, his world included a boy.

It was Simpleton, who was standing in between him and the bull gripping the horns of the raging beast and _holding it in place_.

"Lovino?"

His vision snapped outwards, back into place again. Elizaveta was standing in front of Roderich, with Feliciano huddled behind the both of them. Jett was standing protectively in front of the beer barrel. All were frozen in place and staring.

"Lovino?" Simpleton tried again. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah." His voice was hoarse and he was trembling. He could see the muscles straining under the bull's skin and in its neck as it tried to shake Simpleton's grip but couldn't.

"Where does this fella usually stay?" Simpleton asked.

"There's a stable…far side of the front courtyard…"

And then Simpleton started _pushing the animal backwards_, towards the stable.

"…Oh my _God_," Elizaveta said as they watched him go. "I am going to _kill_ your father."

Feliciano burst into tears. As Roderich attempted to comfort his brother, and Jett attempted to comfort the beer barrel, Lovino sat down heavily.

Simpleton had passed both first tasks.

_Shiiiiiit._

* * *

><p>AN: This took me a while to type, as my sister insisted on reading it first and then making references to _The Last Unicorn_. I don't even know.

Also, the stories Jett references when he talks about what would happen to him if he tried to be the hero are: "The Singing Bone," "Simeli Mountain," and "The Table, the Ass, and the Stick." All Grimm stories, though the first two actually only have an older and a younger brother (no middle bro—sorry Canada). For more examples, check out the TV Tropes page titled Youngest Child Wins.

Thanks for the support for this story, guys. You're so awesome.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: You guys. I should not even be typing this right now because I have three papers to write for this whole 'college' thingy I've got going on (Have I mentioned the college thingy before? No?). One linguistics paper, one music paper on a crappy opera, and one term paper on the connection between alchemy and chemistry. I am so sorry because it's been preventing me from writing TALA or reviewing stuff or even reading very much, but hopefully in about two weeks everything will blow over. Thanksgiving break!

Onwards with the procrastination! This chapter is mostly fluff and UST. Awwww yeah.

And by the way, major props to Dr. Stilla Live who drew Peter as a chicken—I mean goose. It's on deviantart if you wanna see: first link that pops up if you Google 'aureate poultry.'

**The Aureate Poultry: Chapter 4**

_By AoNoShi_

"I'm soooo sorry!"

"I apologize most sincerely…"

The setting: throne room, evening.

The characters: Lovino, Feliciano, Antonio, Ludwig, Elizaveta, Roderich, and Simpleton.

King Antonio is clinging to his oldest son, blubbering apologies, as Lovino tries to pry him off.

Feliciano is clinging to his husband, who looks ashamed and deeply remorseful, arms wrapped around the shorter frame hanging off him.

Roderich is standing with Simpleton, looking on.

Elizaveta is standing with her frying pan, looking pissed.

The action:

"Loviiiii! Can you ever forgive me?"

"If you _get off of me—!_"

"Oh, what would I have done if you had been hurt? The idea! It's just so, so horrible!"

"Let _go_! It's fine, okay? I forgive you, just give me my goddamned personal space back!"

"I'm sorry I wasn't there to protect you," Ludwig said to Feliciano. "I left to check on some rumors of a very drunk albino man wandering around the village…"

Simpleton coughed.

"It's okay! I know you were doing something important. It was just really scary! But we're all safe now." Feliciano smiled reassuringly and stood on tiptoe. Ludwig frowned, obviously still feeling responsible, but he leaned down to allow Feliciano to kiss him on both cheeks.

"I never even found the man," he grumbled.

"Haha, well, I'm sure it's not a big deal!" Simpleton laughed. "The drunk albino dude or whatever. As long as he's cleared out now!"

"I suppose."

"Oh, that's right!" Feliciano flounced over to Simpleton and motioned for him to lean down. The boy did, and Feliciano gave him a kiss on both cheeks, as well. Simpleton blushed slightly. "Thank you for saving us!"

"Uh, n-no problem."

Feliciano turned to his brother. "Aren't you going to thank him, too?"

_Not a chance_, Lovino was about to say, when his father latched onto him again.

"No. He doesn't want to," Antonio said sullenly, glaring at Simpleton.

Lovino wrenched himself away. "Shut up! _You _are not allowed to make any more decisions involving me, remember? I'll thank him if I damn well please!"

There was a silent pause as they all stood there, waiting.

"So, are you going to—"

Lovino cut his brother off by repeating his motions: cross to Simpleton, lean up a bit, and…

_It's not a big deal, it's not a big deal, it's not it's not it's not_, he chanted in his head. _Just two little kisses, and not even on the lips_. But then suddenly he was thinking of lips, and he froze halfway through the second kiss. When he didn't move, Simpleton turned his head to peck Lovino on the cheek instead.

"I'm glad you're okay," he said quietly, right by his ear.

Lovino pulled away sharply. He could tell his face was beet red, _but_, to his immense satisfaction, so was Simpleton's.

"Okay!" Antonio said loudly. He sounded cross, which made Lovino smirk a bit. "Enough of that! I've just decided on your second task; it's to eat an entire mountain of bread."

"What? Shouldn't we be feeding that to the people who live in our kingdom?" Lovino asked incredulously.

"They're fine, Lovi. Don't worry, Daddy knows what he's doing."

"Ha!" Elizaveta scoffed, causing the king to pout. "If there is going to be any ridiculously-wasteful taskdoing, it is going to be done tomorrow."

"But—"

The advisor brandished her frying pan, causing the king to edge back nervously.

"We don't even _have _a mountain of bread. It is going to take at least all night to put that together, so we might as well get some sleep. _And_, we will be putting Simpleton up in a nice room, _and _there will be no more dangerous stunts to try and scare him off."

"I wasn't trying to scare him off, I was trying to kill him," Antonio muttered. Elizaveta scowled and motioned with the frying pan for him to start moving. They left through the main doors with Ludwig following, presumably to make sure she didn't actually try to kill the king.

"I guess I'll show you to the guest rooms!" Feliciano chirped. "Are you coming with us, Lovi?"

Lovino was about to politely decline with a 'hell no,' but decided against it. Feliciano would probably get lost or something.

"Only because my room is on the way," he announced, ignoring (or trying to, at least) the way Simpleton beamed at his answer. The three of them left through the side doors.

Roderich, who was originally supposed to have some kind of speaking role in the preceding scene, but ended up not being needed, just stood there awkwardly.

**BREAK**

After they deposited Simpleton in a guest room, Lovino was unsurprised (but still annoyed, dammit) to find his brother followed him to his own room. Elizaveta was already there, waiting. Which was kind of creepy, but he wasn't about to tell that to the woman who'd escorted the king to bed with a frying pan.

As soon as the door was closed, they both rounded on him.

"So~" Elizaveta said gleefully. "Simpleton passed your first task."

"I know he did, I was there." Crossing his arms, the prince tried not to blush. This whole scene felt embarrassingly like a bunch of girls talking about who they liked at a sleepover or something. Actually they _were_ all wearing dresses…dammit.

"Wasn't it amazing?" Feliciano had taken to jumping up and down on his bed excitedly. "He stopped a _bull_!"

"I can't imagine the kind of strength that would take," agreed Elizaveta, nodding.

"You don't have to imagine it, you saw it," Lovino pointed out. He sat down heavily on a chaise lounge.

Elizaveta rolled her eyes. "It was an expression," she said. "Still, it was really impressive."

Lovino snorted. "More like scary."

"Eh? What do you mean, Lovi?" his brother ceased jumping for a moment to look at him curiously.

"How can you not find that much strength terrifying? He could probably crush me accidentally, or break my arm, or my leg, or my fucking spine—"

"He seems to have control over it," Elizaveta said doubtfully. "And you weren't scared of him before."

"How would you know?"

"I think," Feliciano said chidingly, "you're just working yourself up over nothing because you're scared he'll pass all of Papa's tasks."

"Sh-shut up! I am not! And besides, he still has to pass _my_ tasks, too!"

"Oh yes! So what's your second task going to be?" The advisor's eyes lit up.

Lovino faltered. He hadn't even thought about it.

"Well we know he's strong now—"

"And protective!" Feliciano supplied.

"What?"

"That was part of your first task, too," his brother reminded him. "And he jumped right in front of you when the bull charged."

"I'd say he passed with flying colors," muttered Elizaveta dryly.

Lovino blushed. "Okay, fine. But now I want to know that he's…gentle."

His companions blinked at him.

"Go on," Elizaveta prompted.

"Gentle and…kind." He paused for a moment, considering, then continued more confidently. "Okay, so we know he's strong, good for him, but I don't want some strong brute or a, a jerk. What kind of person he is is gonna affect how he _uses _that strength, so I should do something to assess his personality."

"Makes sense," Elizaveta agreed.

"I think he's already shown gentleness," Feliciano said. There was a note of teasing in his voice that made Lovino eye him warily.

"Yeah? When?"

"Well, back there when he kissed you on the cheek—"

Lovino turned bright red. "Feliciano! Shut. Up!"

His brother just grinned, so he was forced to hit him in the face with a pillow, which led to the eruption of a huge pillow fight.

Yeah, not like a sleepover _at all_.

**BREAK**

Lovino woke up early the next day for some godforsaken reason. It probably had something to do with the damn sun shining so brightly or the stupid birds singing merrily outside his window. Honestly, fairytale mornings sucked for non-morning people.

Plus, there was someone cursing outside of his room.

The prince quickly slipped on a long, orange-brown skirt, but kept the nightshirt he'd slept in on. He had every intention of telling whoever it was out there to kindly _shut the fuck up, _but he stopped short when he opened the door to find Simpleton on the floor of the hallway, crawling with one hand out, seemingly searching for something.

Lovino absolutely did _not _take advantage of this opportunity to check out his butt.

No, instead he asked flatly, "What are you doing?"

Simpleton jerked a bit, seemingly startled. Frowning, he blinked up at the prince from the floor. "Lovino?"

"Obviously." Simpleton just grinned sheepishly. Then Lovino realized his glasses were missing.

"Really, bastard? You lost your glasses?"

"I tripped, and they went flying! I didn't technically _lose_ them, though, if I know they're around here somewhere. Um. And I can't really see without them, so…"

Lovino rolled his eyes. He leaned down to where the frames were just out of the boy's reach and picked them up. "Here," he said, holding them over Simpleton's head. "I've got them, so get off the damn floor already."

Simpleton smiled gratefully and stood. He reached for the glasses, squinting, but ended up overshooting it and bumping his knuckles into Lovino's forearm. "Oops." Instead of pulling back and trying again, he carefully—_gently_, damn him—trailed his fingers down past his wrist, over his palm until he found the edge of one frame and plucked the lenses from Lovino's hand.

It was a simple touch, a completely innocent one, but here he was blushing like a schoolgirl again. Once Simpleton had his glasses on, he peered at the prince worriedly and opened his mouth, probably to ask why—

"Don't even." Lovino's tone was threatening.

Simpleton paused. "Okay," he relented. "Can I ask you something else, then?"

"You just did," Lovino groused sulkily.

"Why do you wear girls' clothing when you obviously hate it so much?"

…well. Where to even _begin _with that one.

"It's a conspiracy," he said darkly. "A goddamned fucking conspiracy to keep me in skirts against my will."

Simpleton stared. "Huh?"

And then something strange happened.

Somehow, he ended up explaining his father's cuteness-fixation, and the uncooperativeness of everyone in the court, and the union-slash-guild with their stupid No Pants list. And then, before he realized it, they were sitting on his bed and _talking_.

"I just hate how no one will listen to me," Lovino complained. "I mean, just because I don't bother with all that princely rhetoric bullshit, doesn't mean my ideas aren't worth anything. And then, when it turns out _I was right_, it's like everyone just gets a case of really selective memory at the same time and forgets I was right and then when the _next _crisis comes around…" He threw his hands up in exasperation.

"I know!" Simpleton exclaimed. "It's like that at my house, too. And the worst part is that it's family, you know? The people who should always trust me and listen to what I have to say? But no, apparently I'm just _incapable _of doing anything right, unlike my perfect, faultless brothers."

"Ugh, brothers."

"Right? Do they exist just so people can call them superior in every way?"

"I _hate _that. It's always about how Feliciano got married first or he has the best manners or he's just so fucking cute and never complains. Well _maybe _ if you people didn't give me so much shit to complain about…? Hell, I wouldn't even mind the dresses so much if people would just acknowledge that I'm a _guy, _dammit. I _hate _being called 'Princess.'"

Simpleton snorted. "At least they don't call you 'Simpleton.'"

This made Lovino pause. He had said his real name wasn't Simpleton several times now, but he hadn't caught the boy's real name.

"So what should I call you instead?"

The blond grinned at him mischievously. "What? You're actually asking? I bet we're about to be interrupted by a huge bear or something. Oh, or maybe someone will burst in and announce the kingdom's being invaded; some kind of plot device that will prevent you from ever actually knowing my name—"

"Well maybe if you would just get on with it," Lovino said with a scowl, though one without the usual frustration behind it. He was amused, despite himself.

'Well excuse me, _princess_."

With an indignant squawk, Lovino picked up a pillow and hit the other in the chest with it. Caught by surprise, Simpleton fell backwards and somehow—seriously, how had they ended up like this?—Lovino fell on top of him. Granted, there was still the pillow in between them, but they were on the _bed_, the prince and his fiancé, in what could be interpreted as a pretty compromising position.

But the boy just smiled up at him, nonplussed, and said, "My name is Alfred."

Lovino stared for a moment—just to put the name to the face, mind you, not because it was a particularly nice face or anything—and decided to test it out.

"Alfred," he repeated.

Alfred's eyes widened, and suddenly he was blushing, which in turn made Lovino blush, too. They quickly separated and got up, ending up on opposite sides of the bed.

"Um, so I was thinking," Alfred said. "This second task thing. I'm probably going to have to go out again to get it done. And uh, I could…I could stop by the tailor's, get a pair of pants made. Just need your measurements."

And goddammit, Lovino could feel his heart swell.

"I—that would—I'd really like that," he stuttered. "But, the tailor might know you're trying to get them for me. By now everyone in the village knows you're my fiancé."

"I thought about that, but see, my brother Mattie's more petite like you, so I figured I could say they're for him—fudge the measurements a little bit, then adjust 'em myself once they're made."

"Adjust…? You mean, you can sew?"

Alfred ducked his head, scratching at the back of his neck sheepishly. "I'm not great at it, but enough for this, yeah."

Lovino tried to imagine Alfred, with his big hands, holding a needle and thread. It was actually kind of a cute image.

"That would be really nice of you," he said finally, adding an "Alfred" after a beat, trying to get used to the name.

Alfred beamed. "Awesome! So uh, after breakfast I'll come back to get your measurements, 'kay?"

"Okay," Lovino nodded. He offered a small smile in return.

Alfred practically skipped out of the room.

Twenty minutes later, Lovino sat down next to his brother at the table for breakfast. Feliciano still looked sleepy. Elizaveta was sitting across from them, buttering a roll.

"So," he said after a moment. "The bastard passed my second task."

**BREAK**

Later, Lovino would blame what happened next on his frazzled nerves. Come on, his brother and Elizaveta had been grilling him all through breakfast after his little announcement. Cut a guy some slack.

When Alfred knocked on his door after the meal, he was wearing new clothes. _Nice _clothes, which he explained Elizaveta had given him. And dammit, he looked good in them.

Lovino covered his interest by briefly cursing out the advisor for giving everyone else pants but himself, then invited the boy inside. He wasn't quite sure if the measurement-taking process for pants was different than for skirts, but it couldn't be _that _different because Alfred had snagged the same cloth measuring tape the dressmakers used on him.

Alfred stood him in the middle of the room, then stared at the prince's skirt intensely. "Alright," he muttered, mostly to himself it seemed. "Don't suppose I can take that off."

"Excuse me?" Lovino spluttered.

"Oh! Oh no, I meant, uh—usually this is done in just underwear but, um, I can do it like this. With clothes on. Haha…" Both were blushing.

"Oh. Okay." Lovino cleared his throat. "Do you need me to do anything, or…?"

"Mm, nope. Just hold still mostly, I'll tell you if I need you to move."

First Alfred measured around his stomach, muttering something about 'natural waistline.' Next was around his hips, with the tape measure pulled snugly but not tight. He was used to this part.

But still there was a problem. It was a problem that had nothing to do with the fact that an attractive blond was standing really close and t-touching him. No, the problem was that Alfred kept _moving_, circling him and trying different angles, and it was making him nervous.

"Stop moving around so much," he snapped finally. "You're like a damn shark, circling me."

"But I need to—" Alfred started, then huffed. "Okay, I guess I'll just…try to do it from here, then."

'Here' was directly in front of Lovino, which was just fine. He could deal with that, no problem.

Then Alfred reached out and put his palm on the side of his thigh. Lovino jumped.

"Hold still," the boy chided, but distractedly. With his other hand he shook out the measuring tape.

"What're you—? Oh."

Alfred had gotten down on his knees. He shot one glance up towards the prince's face before he went to work. He measured down the side of Lovino's leg twice, slightly different each time. "Inseam and outseam," he mumbled, in what Lovino guessed was some kind of vague explanation. Lovino was starting to wish he _had _taken the damn skirt off; in order to get an accurate measurement, Alfred had to hold the skirt down against Lovino's leg, which involved a bit more _touching _than the prince was sure he could handle.

He was dimly aware that Alfred was asking him something. "Yeah, sure," he answered, not sure what he'd agreed with but needing to get out of this as soon as possible.

The kneeling boy shot him another look—nervous for some reason?—but nodded. Then he hiked the skirt up.

_Oh shit._

"Can you hold this, please? I need both hands to…"

Lovino held his skirt up, high enough to show his knees, silently—but inside he was freaking out. Just a tiny bit. Alfred measured around his knee, which was totally fine, except _not _because the idiot was still _touching _him, and this time without the cloth barrier in between.

_Warm hands…no, don't even go there._

"Um, Lovino?" Alfred stumbled over his words. "I have to…higher…"

He took some small satisfaction in the fact that he wasn't the only one getting flustered over this, until he realized what Alfred meant.

"I'm not going to—I can't lift it any higher!" His voice was abnormally high-pitched.

"It doesn't count if I can't see it right?" Alfred said quickly, as though speeding through the words would help. "Just, just keep holding it there, and I'll reach up, and I won't even see anything it'll just be…yeah. Okay?"

Lovino just nodded, not trusting himself to speak—especially when Alfred's hands started moving up from his knee. Warm fingers trailed more than halfway up his thigh before stopping. Alfred briefly splayed his hand out over his skin in a move that could _not _be entirely innocent—especially if the brief upwards flicker of those dilated blue eyes was anything to go by.

For a brief, weak moment, Lovino prayed he would just _do _something.

But all Alfred did was hastily measure the circumference of his thigh, then spring up and back away. Lovino released his skirt again as the blond boy cleared his throat nervously.

"Well, think that's all I need, really ought to be getting to that second task thing now, so—"

"Right. Yes. You should. Good."

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Go on then, bastard," Lovino said eventually, scowling very deliberately. Alfred fled without another word, leaving the prince alone to lean heavily against the closed door and try to get his breathing back under control.

**BREAK**

Alfred leaned against the other side of Lovino's bedroom door, trying to get his breathing back under control.

_Damn. _For a moment, with his hands up the prince's skirt, he'd been so tempted to just keep going, to make Lovino's face flush and his eyes flash, but in a different way than usual.

He took a particularly deep breath.

If he married Lovino he would be able to do that, right? He had to stay focused.

Besides, things were already looking up. He'd completed the first task, gotten to feel up his fiancé, _and _the narrator was no longer referring to him as Simpleton. Now he just had to finish two more tasks, and then he'd be able to see Lovino, and talk to him, and hold him, and _touch _him, whenever he wanted. Which seemed to be all the time.

_Focus, _he reminded himself. _Second task._

Finally, he heaved himself away from the door and took off for the forest. No way was he going to give up now.

**BREAK**

A/N: Blah, back to linguistics. (Okay, so it's not as bad as I make it out to be but it's definitely true that when my workload is increased, it is increased exponentially. Never incrementally. I like adverbs.)

Thanks for reading! And also this added comment from my little sis:

I AM THE VAUDEVILLIAN COCONUT! I DUB THIS CHAPTER: "The chapter of which will cause extreme fangirling and giggles." And come on. Bull. Last Unicorn. Get it yet?


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Oh hey, look, I'm alive! I don't even have an excuse this time, guys…Sorry…_

_This chapter is a bit less silly and a bit shorter, but I put in a little something to make up for that (and also the delay in posting anything, haha). Hope you all enjoy!_

* * *

><p><strong>The Aureate Poultry: Chapter Five<strong>

_By AoNoShi_

Simplet—Alfred stood on the edge of the forest, wondering how far he technically had to go into the woods. Gilbert was guaranteed to show up to help him, since that was how these stories worked, but he wasn't looking forward to dashing around the trees looking for him again. Why couldn't they have a specific meeting place? Or was blindly searching the forest some kind of prerequisite for summoning magical albinos? More likely Gilbert just found it hilarious to pop out _after _whoever was looking for him exhausted themselves.

"Sounds like him," he muttered. "The bastard."

"I assume you're referring to the awesome me!"

Alfred turned with a grin to find Gilbert standing behind him, hands on his hips.

"Yep! Why, do you disagree?"

"Nah," said Gilbert with a shrug. "S'true."

"…still that's not a very nice thing to say…"

Alfred shrieked. "Ahhh! Who said that?"

"Mattie did."

"What? Oh! Hey! When did you get here?" Alfred asked, finally spotting Matthew.

"I've _been_ here," the middle brother said with a sigh.

"Oh, cool. You here to plot device, too?"

"Plot device isn't a verb, Al…"

"Whatever," Alfred dismissed. "Oh, that's right! I wanna go somewhere before we head back to the palace!"

"What's so important that it comes before me getting my mountain of bread?" Gilbert demanded, crossing his arms.

Matthew's brow furrowed. "Mountain of bread…?"

Simultaneously, Alfred exclaimed, "Pants!" as if that explained everything.

Gilbert blinked. "Huh. Okay then."

Alfred grabbed his brother by the elbow, dragging him back towards the village. Matthew may have said something along the lines of, "I _knew _that was foreshadowing!" but his brother wasn't really paying attention.

Gilbert followed them, cackling.

The bastard.

* * *

><p>The next time Lovino saw Alfred, the boy had a huge breadroll in each hand and was devouring them with alternating bites.<p>

He was just standing there in the hallway, eating, when the prince approached him.

"Slow down, idiot, or you'll choke," he scolded.

Alfred gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry," he mumbled around a mouthful of bread. When he caught the where-the-fuck-are-your-manners-I-don't-wanna-see-the-contents-of-your-mouth glare the prince was giving him, he swallowed hastily and flashed a sheepish smile. "Sorry," he repeated. "'M just reeeeeally hungry."

Lovino frowned, thinking back. "That's right, you weren't at breakfast, were you?"

"Well, your dad sent some servant dude to show me the way this morning, and I followed him for a while. Guess I must've lost him, though, 'cause all of the sudden he was just _gone_, ya know? It was weird. So I was lost and wandering around in the hallways…but then Elizaveta found me and gave me those new clothes, and then _I_ found the seamstress and she lent me that measuring tape and I came to see you again!" He smiled again as he finished, as if that last bit made the whole thing worth it.

"Stupid," Lovino muttered, but without any real insult meant. In fact, his tone sounded kind of _fond_, even to his own ears. Shit. "I—I mean,_ still_. You don't have to eat like someone's about to rip the food out of your hands. It's bad manners."

"I dunno, Lovi. I was lucky I managed to grab these!"

"What's that supposed to mean? Isn't there a whole mountain of bread out in the courtyard?" Actually, it was more like a middling-sized hill, from what Lovino had seen on the balcony earlier, after Alfred had rushed off. Still, it was there, right?

"Not anymore," Alfred answered both his spoken question and his unspoken wondering. "But yeah, so my plot device eats like a starving maniac. I got these last two rolls, though, so…late breakfast!"

Lovino stared. "Plot device?"

"Plot device," Alfred confirmed with a nod.

Well. That meant…that meant Alfred had completed the second task. He watched as the other shoved the last bite of the mountain-hill of bread into his mouth.

…Dammit.

"Oh yeah! Lovi!"

"What?" He scowled.

"I wanted you to meet my brother Mattie!"

"Yeah? Where is he?"

"Right here!" Alfred pointed to the empty air beside him.

"Who?"

"Mattie!" he repeated. "My brother! He's really nice."

"…Good for him. I have to go see my dad about something now."

"Oh, okay. I guess you're busy doing prince stuff, huh?"

"Yeah. Exactly. Try not to hurt yourself or something stupid while I'm gone."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "I think I can manage."

Lovino smacked him lightly on the arm. "You'd better, or _I'll _hurt you." He turned to leave.

_Shit! What the fuck was that? I sounded like I actually _cared _about the bastard or something!_

…Except, he realized with vague horror, he _did _care. And this was only proven further by the way his feet were carrying him towards the throne room.

Disappearing servant? Bullshit.

I'm just glad for the opportunity to yell at my idiot father some more, he tried to reason with himself.

But, he knew that wasn't exactly true. He _did _like Alfred. He _was _fond of him. And it was kind of terrifying.

Lovino felt as if he had mastered the art of keeping his weaker feelings in check. Okay so maybe he got upset easily, but at least he could defend himself. He wasn't _vulnerable_. But there feelings for Alfred were…insidious. There was that fondness, and a vague sense of longing, always in the back of his mind. Not entirely consuming his thoughts, but still persistently _there _when they shouldn't be. They were like tiny trickles of water, coming through the cracks in the dam. And he got this sense like there was something big on the other side of that dam, just waiting to break through. It was a kind of pressure, almost—an intense need to let the whole thing break, but he _couldn't_. He couldn't let that flood come because it was too big, too powerful, and it scared the hell out of him.

So he would just ignore it. He could do it. He could.

* * *

><p>"That was kind of weird," Alfred said, watching the prince stalk off in the direction of the throne room. "Eh, Mattie?"<p>

"I—"

"Mattie? Mattie! Hey, where'd you go? Not cool, man."

"I'm right here…"

"Ahh! Ghost!"

* * *

><p>Lovino entered the throne room by shoving the doors open as hard as he could. Admittedly, it would have been more dramatic if he was a bit stronger and the doors weren't quite as heavy, but still. It made for a nice effect.<p>

"Eh? Lovi, what are you doing?"

Oh, right. Except there was a problem in that nobody fucking took him seriously. Well he'd fix that. His father was blinking owlishly at him, looking so fucking innocent. His brother and both the king's advisors stood to the side, watching. Elizaveta, damn her, seemed amused.

"You." He pointed at the king. Antonio timidly pointed at himself and mouthed a silent, 'me?' "Yes, you! Who the fuck am I pointing at, idiot?"

Antonio seemed to take a moment to think about this. Then he pointed at himself again.

"Damn right. _You_. What the fuck do you think you were pulling this morning?"

"Um—"

"What the fuck kind of host are you? What kind of _king_? That was just fucking petty, you asshole."

Antonio shrank back in his seat.

"Just a moment," Roderich interrupted. "What exactly has he done now?"

"I haven't done anything!" Antonio protested.

"Don't act like you don't know," scoffed Lovino.

"But—but I'm not acting!" Now it sounded kind of like he was whining. Honestly, how was this person his father?

You sent someone to deliberately get Alfred lost this morning, didn't you?" Lovino put his hands on his hips, scowling fiercely.

The king gaped at him in silence.

"…Alfred?" Feliciano asked, sounding as though he was trying to stop himself from giggling. Lovino blushed slightly but persisted.

"Yes, Alfred! Shut up Feli. And you, bastard, what do you have to say for yourself?"

"Okay, I may have sent someone to mess with Simpleton like you said—"

"His name is _Alfred_. Not Simpleton," Lovino said through grit teeth.

"—yes, yes, whatever; but, it was only a joke! I know you said I couldn't try to kill him again, but he wasn't in any danger in the hallways! Really, it was a harmless prank. I don't understand why you're so upset."

"B-because! I told you, it's unbefitting for the fucking _king _to pull shit like that!"

At the very least, Antonio had the decency to look slightly ashamed.

"So no more of it!" the prince continued. "Pranks or anything else you come up with to try and chase Alfred away, or whatever it is you were trying to accomplish."

"But, Lovi!"

"No but's!"

Antonio slumped back in his throne, pouting. "It almost sounds like you _want _him to succeed."

And damn it all if that didn't ring true in his mind. Instead of acknowledging the bolt of panic this caused, he gave his audience the steeliest gaze he could muster, and coupled it with a sickeningly sweet tone to deliver his parting line: "So what if I do?"

And then he turned tail and marched out.

He had about thirty seconds to feel like a badass before Elizaveta came after him to talk about his feelings.

"So," she addressed him from behind, following him when he didn't stop. "You want him to succeed?"

"Of course not," Lovino answered. "I just said that to piss off our idiot king." Thankfully she couldn't see his face. It didn't seem to do much good, however.

"Who are you trying to fool, anyway?" Elizaveta sighed.

_Myself_, was his immediate thought.

He stopped short. "Do you have anything you want to say to me? Or are you just wasting my time?"

"Just…what do you _want_, Lovino?"

He turned. "Excuse me?"

"You should think about what you want. I know you don't enjoy all the teasing, but please believe that we all just want for you to be happy," she said sincerely.

Lovino felt his shoulders, which he hadn't realized had tensed up, lower. "I know. I'll—I'll think about it, okay? What I want."

Elizaveta smiled and curtsied, then returned to the throne room. Lovino sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Fuck. Why did he feel like everything was out of control? He needed a plan of some sort.

Maybe a short detour to the kitchens would help. Tomatoes were excellent planning food. Actually tomatoes were good for just about anything. Yum.

* * *

><p>What happened next was not part of Lovino's plan.<p>

Albeit, it was a pretty hastily thrown together plan, and consisted mainly of 'don't do anything stupid.' Still, he should have accounted for the chaotic force that was Alfred when he was making it. Namely that making a plan was fucking pointless because, dammit, _Alfred_.

Lovino was in his bedroom, feeling warm and happy after his third tomato. He stood in front of the mirror, imagining the flowing green skirt replaced by a pair of pants—a smile-inducing thought. Then Alfred burst in.

"Hey Lovi!" He greeted cheerfully, smiling. "I talked to the tailor today! I even brought Mattie with me, so he wouldn't suspect anything about who they were for! The pants, I mean. He said they'd be done by tomorrow!"

Lovino felt his heart give a happy flutter, only to realize, much to his chagrin, that it had more to do with the idiot's smile than the good news passing through his lips. (_Damn! Don't think about his lips!_)

Really, though—allowing Alfred to endear himself any further to Lovino definitely counted as stupid. He couldn't let it happen.

"Who the hell said you could address me so informally, bastard?" he demanded, trying to recall his anger from earlier in the throne room.

But _God _it was hard to hold onto the feeling of indignation when Alfred blinked those gorgeous blues at him.

"Well," the boy said, kind of shyly, "I thought that…since we're getting married…"

So…_cute_. Dammit, he sounded like his father.

"And what makes you so sure we'll be getting married? There's still one more task to complete, and—"

"Don't worry, I'll pull it off somehow!"

That's exactly what he was worried about.

Lovino tried to continue, "And…and maybe I don't _want _to marry you, and—"

Shit. Lovino realized that was a mistake as soon as the words left his mouth.

"You don't?" Now Alfred looked crestfallen, almost heartbroken.

And Lovino had to tell himself that it was the peasant boy who was the potential heartbreaker here, not himself. Because he was! Lovino could see it now—Alfred would keep trying to get closer to him, but eventually he'd decide Lovino wasn't worth getting close to, wasn't worth marrying, and he'd leave. The prince nodded slightly; yes, that was a good start. Alfred would just leave if he let him get close enough, so whatever he did he absolutely _would not _let this boy into his heart. He should shove him away before Alfred could change his mind. Before this beautiful, sweet boy he was kinda-sorta engaged to managed to…

Well shit. That wasn't going to work. Especially not with Alfred _looking _at him like that.

"Well that's—no, I—I guess…" He stuttered as he felt his face heat up. "Marrying you wouldn't be unbearable or anything. But!" he hurriedly continued seeing the return of that damnable smile, "_You_. Do you, do you even like boys?" There, he'd said it.

Alfred just looked confused, though. "What does that have to do with anything? I like _you_, Lovi."

Lovino's face flamed. "Chigi!" Dammit, the plan was backfiring. "I mean, you seem like the kind of guy to fall in love with a beautiful farm girl, or a…an actual _princess_."

"Oh, so that's what you meant! Well, you're right, I usually prefer girls, but _you_, Lovi…you're…"

This time Alfred was the one blushing, biting his lip and staring at Lovino almost _shyly _through golden eyelashes.

_Fuck it_, Lovino thought. He grabbed the back of Alfred's neck and pulled him down for a kiss. _Just a taste. No matter what happens, I'll have this._

Alfred made a startled noise, but Lovino had his eyes closed and couldn't see the accompanying expression.

The prince licked slightly at the lip Alfred had been biting. His questing tongue found an opening which he exploited wholeheartedly, sliding in and over the blond's teeth and around the roof of his mouth.

Alfred gave a small moan, which was sufficient for Lovino to come back to himself just enough to realize that Alfred was _kissing him back_, lips moving and tongue twined wetly with his.

He broke away.

Alfred's eyes were shut; his breath was coming in short pants and his face was a light pink—a rather striking image.

But what made Lovino's heart start thundering in his chest was not the enthralled expression on the other's face, but the small gasp of "_oh_" that escaped Alfred's slightly swollen lips.

It was the same quiet exclamation of something like awe that Alfred had given when he first laid eyes on him on the balcony.

Eventually those blue eyes opened again, and Lovino was subjected to an intense, but not unpleasant, gaze. _He's so close_, he thought, but realized this was probably because he still had his fingers curled into the fine blond hair at the nape of Alfred's neck.

Alfred reached one hand up and placed it on the prince's cheek. "Lovino," he said.

Lovino shivered, simply because of the way he'd said his name.

"I swear, no matter what, I'll win the right to marry you. I'll prove to your father that I'm serious about you. And I hope…I hope I can prove that to you, too." He started backing away; Lovino forced his hands to release him. "I'll see you tomorrow, Lovi." And then he was out the door.

Lovino stood in the same spot for several moments. "Good night," he whispered eventually, long after Alfred could hear him.

Then he slapped himself in the forehead because really, that was just stupid, and what was he, the love-struck heroine in some stupid romance novel?

He completely ignored his flushed, bright-eyed reflection.

Nope. Totally not love-struck. That would be stupid. And totally against the plan.

Maybe he should work harder on that "plan" thing.

* * *

><p><em>AN: In other news, I watched the last episode of Sherlock series two yesterday and it broke my heart and stomped on the pieces. Anyone else a fan?_


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: So basically everything Romerica I post ever is dedicated to **Coffee-Flavored Fate**. EVERYTHING. Without him I would not be writing this pairing, guys. Or even in this fandom, most likely. I'd just be a lurker. And I'd never get to assault you with puns or fourth-wall breakage, and wouldn't that be just sad?

This is also for **Positively**, who sat on the bed to read this and told me I was funny, and my little sister **Leah** who demanded to read the chapter first and was there when I originally came up with this story.

Also, I'm looking at you **Dr. Stilla Live**. You reviewed every chapter and drew me a chicken. I have never been more honored.

Also to the lovely Romerica fandom on **tumblr**. I track that tag guys; it's so awesome to see that plenty of Romerica fans exist. (_I'm watching youuuu_).

**So, here's the last chapter. There's cheesiness! Mood whiplash! Large wooden animals! A scene vaguely similar to a scene from Aladdin! Pants! And more!**

* * *

><p><strong>The Aureate Poultry: Chapter Six<strong>

_By AoNoShi_

To say the king was absolutely livid and looked like he wanted to murder anyone who came within ten feet of him was a bit of an understatement. Actually he was absolutely livid and looked like he wanted to murder anyone who came within twenty feet of him. Therefore the other occupants of the room maintained a distance of exactly twenty-one feet away from the furious monarch.

"He ate all the bread!" Antonio shouted. "All of it!"

"That was the second task you set for him, was it not? Really, you're being a bit unreasonable here. Sire." Roderich increased his distance to twenty-two feet when Antonio turned on him, eyes flashing.

"Unreasonable?" he ground out.

"Yes," Elizaveta interrupted. "_Unreasonable_." Her frying pan had somehow materialized in her hand. Antonio eyed it for a second, then began a visible effort to calm himself down.

"Can't believe he ate it all," he muttered. "Could have fed it to the subjects of the kingdom, but did he think of that? Noooo."

"Lovino did," Alfred pointed out. "Also, stop talking about me like I'm not here; it's confusing to the audience."

Just to be clear, the term 'other occupants of the room' used earlier refers to Roderich, Elizaveta, Alfred, and Lovino.

"There, now they know."

"Alfred's right, I did say we should be more practical with the bread," Lovino agreed, a bit smugly.

"And he's turning my own child against me!" Antonio wailed.

"Whoa now," Alfred started; simultaneously the prince scoffed, "Actually I've always been against anything you say just on principle."

"Look at them!" By this point the king was flailing distressedly. "They're—they're in _cahoots_!"

The two in question looked at each other. _Cahoots_? Lovino mouthed with incredulity. Alfred just grinned, amused.

"That's it!" exclaimed Antonio. "No more talking to each other! From now on until this _boy _fails the third task there will be none of this…_fraternization_!"

"But—" Lovino's hands balled into fists.

"That's my final word on the matter!" Antonio roared.

The room fell silent.

"You know," Lovino finally said, quiet and serious and trembling, "I've always hoped one day you'd act more like an actual fucking king. But this? You're just—you—" He began to tear up. "You fucking _tyrant_!" After yelling out those last words, he dashed from the room.

"…You upset Lovi." The smile had disappeared from Alfred's face; he was staring at the king with a frighteningly blank expression.

The king twitched a bit at the nickname, but glared resolutely back. "I'm going to enjoy cutting your head off. Very, very much."

"That won't happen. I'm going to complete your third task." He cocked his head. "Which is…what exactly?"

Antonio paused, then: "A ship. A ship that can sail on both land and sea. Bring me this, and you will have completed your tasks."

Alfred paled. Getting Gilbert to eat or drink through the first two tasks had been no problem, but a boat that could sail on land and water?

"Hold up," he said. "Isn't this country landlocked?"

Antonio suddenly looked shifty-eyed. "That hasn't technically been specified."

"It is," Roderich said in a deadpan. "Our water supply comes from underground caverns; we don't even have a large lake."

"And you were doing so well there, too," Elizaveta sighed. "Such lovely tension and drama…"

"Fine!" the king exclaimed, scowling sourly. "Whatever! Just…bring me something I'll like! Alright? No more questions; everyone leave!"

"Fine, I'll bring you the best wedding gift ever, _future father-in-law_!" Alfred declared, and scurried away before the king could yell at him again.

"That—did you hear that?" Antonio gestured after the boy, outraged. "That little—! A wedding gift! _A wedding gift_!"

"The nerve," Roderich agreed. Antonio glared, patronizing tone not lost on him.

"We'll leave you to your thoughts, Your Majesty," Elizaveta said with a curtsy. Roderich barely had time to bow before his fellow advisor tugged him away and out the door.

"This is so exciting!" Elizaveta squealed as soon as they were outside the throne room. There were crashing noises coming from behind the now-closed doors; Roderich wasn't quite sure what the king was throwing around in there but he was sure it was valuable and he shuddered to imagine the waste of perfectly good bookends and ornamental urns. Elizaveta announced, "I'm going to go tell Feli about the new developments!"

Exasperated, Roderich watched her leave and was about to turn to leave himself—a few hours with his piano would surely alleviate his frustrations—but Simpleton, or wait, the narration said he was called Alfred now, suddenly ran around the corner and skidded to a halt in front of him. He was clutching a package in brown paper under one arm.

"Are you quite alright?" Roderich asked, eyeing the panting boy dubiously.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine. Just, uh, ran to my room and back and I still don't really know my way around so—yeah. Um." Alfred straightened. He looked a bit nervous, Roderich noted.

"Mister, uh, Roderich. I was wondering if you would give this to Lovi—uh, Prince Lovino—for me. Please."

Roderich glanced at the package, eyebrows raising.

"I promised I'd give them to him today. Please," he said again.

"Very well." Roderich motioned for him to hand the package over, which Alfred did with a bright smile.

"Thank you! Tell him I've already fixed them up and everything, so they're ready for use whenever."

"Alright," the advisor agreed slowly, wondering exactly what was in the package he was now holding. He would have asked, except Alfred had already dashed off again.

So he went and found the crown prince.

Elizaveta and Feliciano, it seemed, had already found him. The three were sitting in Feliciano's room—or rather, Lovino was sitting while the other two clutched at each other, squealing and jumping up and down in excitement.

"Ah, you're so cool, Lovi! I can't believe you called Papa a _tyrant_!" Feliciano was enthusing as Roderich walked in.

"It was stupid and melodramatic," Lovino dismissed, but he looked pleased. He saw Roderich enter and asked him, "Did Alfred really call that idiot his future father-in-law?"

"He did," Roderich confirmed. He saw the corner of Lovino's mouth twitch upwards. "Also he asked me to give you this. And to tell you he'd fixed them and they were ready, or something along those lines."

Lovino took the package from him, a curious expression on his face. He opened it quickly, as Elizaveta and Feliciano moved closer to see.

It was a pair of pants.

Lovino stood quickly, holding the soft leather to his body to see the fit.

"That's so…romantic!" Elizaveta exclaimed. She and Feliciano resumed bouncing around the room, giggling.

"Yes. Pants. Very romantic." Roderich didn't really understand what the big deal was but still…

He'd never seen Lovino smile like that before.

* * *

><p>"Gilbert!" Alfred yelled into the woods, then jumped when the man appeared directly beside him.<p>

"Hey, I already got the ship ready," he said around the stick of maple candy jutting out of his mouth.

"About that—" He quickly explained what had happened in the throne room.

"Seriously? _Man _our king is a dork."

"You don't seem very concerned," Alfred noted. "Does…does that mean I don't need to be concerned? Is this a good thing?"

Gilbert smirked and clapped him on the back. "You're the third son in a fairytale. You don't have to worry about _anything_."

"I feel like that kinda trivializes the abuse I went through as a kid."

"Whatever, that happened off-screen," Gilbert dismissed with a shrug.

Alfred shot him a disapproving look which he would have been horrified to learn was very reminiscent of one of Arthur's expressions. "So what _are _we going to do, then?" he asked.

Gilbert hmm'd, seeming to ponder the question for a moment, then visibly brightened. "I got it! Our dork king really likes cute things, right?"

"Yeah?" Alfred replied, wondering exactly where this was going.

"_So_, we bring him something so cute he can't resist it!"

Alfred grinned back at this absurd idea. "That's a great idea!" he exclaimed.

"Isn't it though? And I know exactly what to bring him!"

"Oooh, what?"

Gilbert leaned in and whispered into Alfred's ear.

"…You're kidding. A giant—?"

"Yep! I learned how to make one from a movie." Gilbert was smirking proudly, despite his companion's skeptical look.

"Um, what's a movie?"

"Dude, is there really a point in pretending we don't know about anything that doesn't belong in a fairytale?"

Alfred shrugged. "Guess not."

"Alright then! Let's go."

This scene ends with Gilbert and Alfred looking directly at _you_, because at this point screw the fourth wall, too.

* * *

><p>Back at the castle, things were set up like this: the two princes and both advisors were sitting at a table on the front balcony. They had the best view of the courtyard, where Antonio and Ludwig were waiting for Alfred's return. They were flanked by a band of guards, and though no one was really acknowledging it, it was obvious the king intended for them to detain Alfred for execution if he failed the task.<p>

Lovino was grateful that no one called him on his shaking hands.

"_Fratello_?"

"Hm?" Lovino answered distractedly.

"I was just wondering, what did you decide on as _your_ final task for Alfred?"

Roderich, who had only recently been updated by Elizaveta on the 'epic romance of the prince and the commoner,' nodded. "I was wondering the same. This is all very dramatic." Here Lovino swore he saw Roderich shoot a deeply disapproving look at the oblivious king below. "His Majesty's tasks were meant to turn him away, as were your own—I'm curious as to how you will try that now."

"My tasks weren't meant to turn him away," Lovino protested.

"Yes they were," Roderich said mildly. "You didn't want to marry him. Are you implying that's changed?"

Lovino wanted to snap back, but found himself at a loss for what to say.

"Lovi?" His brother clasped his hand in his own gentle ones. "What is it that you _want_?"

That question again. "I don't know," he replied. "He's shown already that he's strong, but also gentle, and kind and—and he's caring and funny and kind of an idiot but also smart when he needs to be, and…" He took a deep breath, but his eyes teared up anyway. "And he can't see without his glasses and he can sew—the _stupid idiot_ can sew—and he smiles at me like…like he…" He covered his eyes with his free hand, trying to stop the tears from falling, and to prevent his companions from seeing.

"I want—I want him to be in love with me."

Below in the courtyard, Ludwig looked away. "Your oldest is crying," he informed the king. Antonio frowned but remained staring rigidly at the front gate. Ludwig sighed.

Suddenly from the woods came a loud, continuous creaking noise. And it was getting closer.

"You feel that?" Antonio asked his fellow king, eyes narrowing.

"Indeed," Ludwig confirmed. "That feeling as though…"

"Someone is about to make an incredibly blatant pop culture reference," Antonio finished.

Alfred appeared at the edge of the woods. He was holding a rope, dragging something behind him, and whatever it was was making a lot of noise. A strange looking white-haired man was beside him.

"Seriously?" Elizaveta said. "Monty Python again?"

As Alfred pulled the giant, wheeled wooden rabbit into the courtyard, the strange man smirked up at the balcony. "There's no such thing as too many Monty Python references," he said, grinning. "Hey Specs! Long time no see."

Roderich looked away. "Maybe if I ignore him he'll go away," he muttered.

"I wouldn't count on it, if this kid's gonna be sticking around. I'm dating his brother." He waggled his eyebrows.

"Ve? You know this person?" Feliciano looked curiously to the advisers.

"No," the both said simultaneously. The man scoffed.

"Gilbert!" Alfred called from beside the rabbit. "Thanks for, uh, helping me get this here."

"Hey, no problem. Least I could do for the guy who hooked me up with food, beer, and a hot date." Gilbert winked up at the people on the balcony. "Mazel tov," he said, and disappeared with a cackle.

"…I can't believe him," Elizaveta said with an exasperated sigh. Roderich nodded in agreement, pinching the bridge of his nose above his glasses as though trying to stave off a headache.

"I thought you said you didn't know him?" Feliciano asked, blinking in confusion.

Elizaveta patted his head with a slightly pained smile. "Let's just watch what happens with Alfred, shall we?"

"Oh yeah! I almost forgot."

They looked to Lovino, only to realize he was completely oblivious to their conversation. He was totally focused on Alfred, who now stood next to the rabbit, facing the king.

Antonio gaped up at the rabbit.

One of its ears was built so that it flopped over.

"This…this is…it's so _cute_!"

Alfred smiled as the king practically bounced around the rabbit. "You like it?"

"Yes, I love it!" The king froze. "Wait."

Ludwig coughed into his fist, trying but not quite succeeding in hiding a small, amused smile. "Sire, you _did _say the third task was to bring you something you'd like, correct?"

"It was," Antonio agreed reluctantly.

"So I can marry Lovino?" Alfred was bouncing up and down slightly.

Antonio glanced between Alfred's hopeful expression and the rabbit, then sighed. "I guess," he said sulkily.

Alfred's face lit up and he immediately turned towards the balcony with eager eyes—only for his smile to fade. He swiftly shoved the rabbit closer to the balcony, climbing up so he could perch on its head. This put him very close to the level of the prince; standing up he was able to lean over the edge of the balcony, towards Lovino.

"You were crying," he said, distressed. "What's wrong? Is it—?"

"No," the prince interrupted, "it's not that you finished the third task. I'm…I'm glad about that."

"Okay," Alfred looked relieved, "but then, what is it?" When Lovino hesitated, he said earnestly, "I'll fix it, Lovi, promise."

Lovino stared, realizing that _fuck _but he loved this boy. How the hell was he supposed to respond to something like that? He stood up and crossed to the edge, leaning on his elbows to look down at Alfred just a little below him.

"Alright, bastard, listen up. Here's my problem: I've been setting my own tasks for you, right?"

"You have? Oh. Okay. They're probably a lot more sensible than your dad's tasks, huh?"

_Fuck it, just marry him now_, the easily flattered part of him demanded. But Lovino steeled himself and continued.

"Of course they are! The problem is that you may have passed that idiot's last task, but you haven't passed mine yet."

"I can do it!" Alfred exclaimed immediately. "So wait, what _is _your last task?"

"I can't tell you, bastard. You might cheat." Plus he didn't want to say 'please love me you moron' out loud. Well, maybe the moron part.

"I won't cheat! This is important!"

…A third task was looking less and less necessary the longer he was near Alfred. "Um, well, the last task is that you have to be…lucky." Shit, that was lame.

Alfred cocked his head. "Lucky?" Then suddenly he was grinning. "That's easy!"

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah! I came here and I got to meet you, right? That's gotta make me one of the luckiest guys ever."

Let's just pause and let that sink in for a second.

Yeah.

Lovino burst into laughter. "Christ, I can't—believe you just—said that!" he gasped. "Oh my _God_. Could you—could you get any more cheesy?"

"Probably, if I did a title drop. But I couldn't figure out how to work 'The Aureate Poultry' into a sentence." He paused. "Wait, did that count?"

Lovino descended into helpless giggles again.

In the courtyard, Ludwig was mildly disturbed to find the king clinging to his arm.

"My baby is laughing," Antonio said, with a kind of tearful awe. After a moment he sighed. "Fine then!" he said loudly. "I guess we're having a wedding! Unless there are any objections…?"

"_Now _he asks," Lovino grumbled. Alfred laughed.

"Hey Lovi?"

"Hm?"

Alfred smiled up at him—_that _smile, the one that made Lovino feel…

Loved.

Well shit. Maybe Alfred had been done with his third task for a while now.

"I love you," Alfred said, confirming it.

"Yeah, well, luckily for you I love you, too."

"Yep, _lucky _me."

"If you don't stop with the cheesiness I will be forced to _make _you be quiet, bastard."

"Oh yeah?"

Okay, that was definitely a challenge.

To Lovino's happiness, being able to pull Alfred in for a kiss the second time was even more satisfying than the first.

"No foreplay on my rabbit!" Antonio yelled. 'Stop defiling the crown prince!"

"Hold up—_crown _prince?"

Lovino gave him an exasperated look. "Don't tell me you didn't know."

Alfred looked sheepish. "Well…wait, so when you become king, is that gonna make me the _queen_?"

"No, it'll make you the Prince Consort," Lovino told him with a wicked smile.

"Consort?" squeaked Alfred.

And then they got married, and the pants that Alfred had worked to get Lovino into he also got to get him out of, and everyone was pretty happy with the arrangement, especially Elizaveta who was often found giggling maniacally in corners suspiciously nearby where the couple were rooming, and even though sometimes Antonio would get a bit tipsy and go hang out and complain with the tailors' union, and eventually they became King and Prince Consort, which really is a kind of embarrassing title, and they lived happily ever after.

Man that was a long sentence.

The end.

* * *

><p>AN: You guys, I'm not sure what to say. I finished this. _I finished it_. Of course, that would never have happened without you guys reading and reviewing. And telling me I'm funny, because I'm pretty sure the ability to make people laugh is one of the most important traits a person can have.

Aw man, I'm just gonna stop there. There's enough cheesiness in this thing already.

THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU


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